


spaces.

by luna_e_stelle



Series: stormy weather [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Torture, can be read as a standalone, or as close to fluff i can get whoops, they get kidnapped lol so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_e_stelle/pseuds/luna_e_stelle
Summary: Tony had a black eye. Bruises were slowly forming on his arms, and something sunk in Peter’s gut, making him feel sick and scared and very, very young.---Peter and Tony are kidnapped.They try to survive.





	spaces.

 

On the first day, Peter woke on a concrete floor, blood slowly dripping from his pounding head and darkness surrounding him like a blanket. He didn’t move, not for a moment, as he blinked heavily and let his eyes adjust. There was another heartbeat in the room, steady breathing that wasn’t his.

It sped up though, as did the thudding heartbeat, and the person woke with a gasp and scrambled up from somewhere beside him. He didn’t move, didn’t let his heart stutter the slightest beat, because there was adrenaline rushing through his blood; he would have to fight, something was going to happen, someone was going to try and hurt him.

" _Peter?_ "

Peter jumped, looked into the darkness. "Mister Stark?"

His head stung when he moved, but he could see Tony, scratched skin and bleeding just as he was, and he crawled over to him. The relief running in him was almost enough to wash away the adrenaline.

"Are you okay?" Tony’s hands searched around until they found Peter’s shoulders, gripped them like a lifeline and ran his hands clumsily through his hair.

"I’m — I’m fine," he promised. Tony was looking just to the side of his head, his sight nowhere as good as Peter’s. "You?"

Except, Tony couldn’t reply, because his neck prickled, and they were bathed in a bright, white, blinding light. Solid concrete surrounded them, a steel door that slid open. Tony pushed Peter behind him, glaring at the men that entered.

Peter tensed, eyed off the guns, searched for a weak spot. There was nothing. Another man in a simple black suit walked through the doorway, tall and proud. His chin had a pale pink scar, running down to beneath his shirt. Tony rose slowly, and Peter followed.

"I find it interesting," the man said, putting his hands in his pockets and tilting his head. "That we managed to both capture Tony Stark, as well as the young man that saved him not even a few days ago."

"Impressive." Tony just rose an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Now, let’s call it a day and we’ll all go home before you end up dead or in jail."

The man smiled, glanced over his shoulder, and then the guards were moving suddenly, pushing Peter and Tony to their knees, guns to their heads. Peter sucked in a breath, clenched his fist.

"What do you want?" Tony snapped.

"This is nothing to do with me," the man said. Peter knew he could move before the guards would have a chance to pull the trigger. He knew he could do it, but Tony shook his head, so innoticaby that not even the man holding a gun to him would have seen. He hadn’t even taken his eyes off the man, who was walking slowly, back and forth. "This is simply justice."

"Justice is killing an innocent kid, too?" Tony was snarling, eyes hard. Peter had never really seen that.

"Oh, no." The man shook his head. "The child’s capture was no more than an unfortunate coincidence. And I do not plan to kill you."

"Then, _what?_ "

Peter’s neck prickled, just a bit more than what it already was.

"You are going to build a bomb for us," he said.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You know, people have tried to make me do that before. Didn’t end well for them."

"Yes, yes, of course." The man waved his hand impatiently. "Except, this bomb will be placed in the Avengers Compound. You will be constructing a bomb that will destroy everyone you hold close."

Something in the air snapped; disbelief and tension and denial. Peter’s heart thudded in his chest.

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"It’s nothing more than retribution for the lives that you have taken," he explained, as if was simple, a closed discussion.

"Mister Stark saves lives." Peter didn’t look away from the man as he walked over, amusement dancing on his face. He clenched his jaw, hid the shudder as a thin finger grazed over his forehead. For the first time since he had walked in, Peter could see the cracks in the man’s mask; he hid a cold insanity, one that was dangerous and deadly.

"Of course, I understand how you see that," the man said, smiling. "A child will often idolise heroes, no matter if they are actually deserving of the title."

Peter gritted his teeth. "I’m not a kid. And Mister Stark _is_ deserving of the title."

The man looked back to Tony and gestured to Peter. "I wonder… If we killed him, how would you react?"

Ice ran through his veins. A beat passed. "Killing a kid wouldn’t exactly put you in my good books."

"Just a kid, to you?" The man was studying Tony, watching and waiting for the smallest hint.

"He’s an intern." Tony raised an eyebrow. Peter didn’t have to look at him to understandthe game he was playing.

Maybe it was because, for once, the universe decided to let them catch a break, the man let it slide.

"I’ve been told that I’m quite persuasive," he said, suddenly uninterested in Peter, turning away from him. "You will soon agree with me."

"Doubt it," Tony said.

The man didn’t reply. He just walked out.

 

 

They didn’t come back until the second day; late enough that Peter half-hoped they had just forgotten about them entirely.

Tony and Peter hadn’t found any cameras in the bare room. There was no cot, no blankets, and the cold had seeped into his skin, making his bones turn to ice. Tony had given him his hoodie, and he buried into after they had dragged Tony away, leaving him alone.

He remembered being in the passenger seat, next to Tony, laughing at something he had said. He remembered his brain screaming, electricity running down his spine, and a deafening bang as a truck hit them. And then he had woken up to the cold, concrete room.

Peter wrapped his arms around himself tighter, biting his lip. They had tried to come up with an escape plan, but there was nothing but concrete and a steel door. He knew that he could break it down, but they didn’t know how many guards were there, didn’t want to risk it. He knew that someone would find them, eventually, but would they even still be alive?

His thoughts spiralled, panic stuck in his throat. He couldn’t lose Tony. He couldn’t even let it be a possibility. Except, it was, and he was alone, stuck in a room while Tony was getting hurt or killed, and his breath came out faster and faster, his hands shaking.

There were footsteps, a lot, coming closer, and the panic disintegrated into focus, ears straining. They got louder, the door slid open, and Tony stumbled in. It slammed shut.

Peter raced over. "Mister Stark? Are you okay? What happened?"

Tony had a black eye. Bruises were slowly forming on his arms, and something sunk in Peter’s gut, making him feel sick and scared and very, very young.

He chewed his lip nervously and sat as Tony slid down against the wall, eyes shut and head leaning back.

"Mister Stark?" Peter asked quietly.

Tony opened his eyes, tried to smile. "I’m good, kid. Promise."

The lights cut out, and the cold crept back with the darkness. Peter curled into Tony and wished he could stop shivering.

 

 

On the forth day, he heard Tony scream. He knew that a normal person couldn’t have; that the thick concrete would stop the sound from reaching them. But he wasn’t normal, and bile rose in his throat and his heart hammered and his eyes stung. It cut him worse than the cold, worse than a knife, and he shoved his hands over his ears, squeezed his eyes shut, but it was leaking through, curling around his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

His hands banged against the door, his throat tore as he shouted at them to _let him go_. Panic shredded his insides, and he left dents in the steel, knew he could break it down, find Tony, and then _what?_

Tony had told him, before he was dragged away again, that there were too many, that they were too organised, that they’d have to wait it out. But then Peter heard another scream.

"Fuck, okay," he said to himself, putting his hands over his ears, blinking his blurry, stinging eyes, taking a deep breath. "Think."

He couldn’t. Tony was getting hurt, and he couldn’t do anything. Or, he could, but he wasn’t, because he trusted Tony more than anyone, and he had been told not to try anything, to wait until there was an opening.

Maybe there was an opening. It would be quick, but he knew he was faster. Tony would be in danger, but Peter would keep on the attention off him. It was stupid, probably, but it was all he had, and he had to get Tony out.

Peter climbed onto the roof, just above the doorway, and he waited. His limbs shook and his breath hitched with every scream, but his muscles stayed tense, ready to jump at any second. His neck had prickled constantly for four days, his nerves were completely shot. He ignored it.

When he heard footsteps, hours later, he stopped breathing, stopped blinking.

As soon as the door slid open, before Tony even hit the floor, Peter jumped on the guards, knocking one to the ground, kicking one back. His eyes flickered to each one quickly. There were only three.

His skin pricked, like a burst of electricity had touched it, and he dodged a clumsy punch, tripped the guard and threw him into the wall, head first. One of them stumbled up, and he knocked him straight in the jaw, making him fall to the floor, unconscious.

Tony, shirt tattered and stained with blood, was looking at Peter with wide eyes.

"We have to go," Peter said, grabbing onto Tony, pulling him down the hallway.

It was concrete as well; the walls and the floor and the roof. But, it was dimly lit, some steel doorways open and revealing weapons or beds or empty cells. Peter stopped at a doorway and pushed them against a wall. There were voices floating out, and he peered around.

Two people sat facing away from the door, typing away on computers. Tony was leaning on him more and more, breathless, but Peter pulled him along again.

"Pete," Tony breathed, and he was limping, Peter realised, and he grit his teeth and let Tony lean on him more. "Gotta plan?"

"Ah…" He looked around a corner and started moving again when it was empty. "Didn’t think this far ahead. It’s going pretty well, though."

Tony wrapped his free hand around his ribs. "Don’t jinx us, kid."

"Didn’t know you were superstitious, Mister Stark." He tightened his grip around Tony’s waist and peered down another empty hallway. "When we get outta here, I could show you some really cool conspiracy videos on YouTube."

Tony let out a weak laugh, and it sounded like it hurt. "Sure, kiddo."

When the alarms sounded and the lights started flashing red, he wasn’t even surprised. Panic fluttered in his chest, though, because they had been looking for so long and there wasn’t even a staircase or an elevator or _anything_. It was a labyrinth; twisted and made to trap anyone who lost their way.

He could hear footsteps. Heavy, leather boots were thudding towards them, and he broke into a run, dragging Tony along, and they had to be close, there had to be something other than cold walls and endless corridors.

"Pete," Tony gasped. "Hide. In a room somewhere. I’ll keep them distracted."

"No," he snapped. "I’m not leaving —"

They almost collided with the guards as they turned a corner, and Peter knew that there were too many, that they were outnumbered, that he couldn’t hold that many off and keep Tony safe.

Guns pointed at their heads before he could blink, and Tony’s grip tightened around his shoulders. The guards circled around them, trapping them.

"Going somewhere?" The man was there, hands in his pockets and a wide grin. "You missed the exit."

Peter clenched his jaw.

"Take Stark back to the cell," he said, tilting his head. "I think the child and I should have a talk."

A sharp feeling of danger flared in his head and Tony pushed Peter behind him. "Stay the fuck away from him."

"Just an intern?" He asked lightly.

And then they grabbed Peter and pulled him away from Tony.

 

"Did you know," the man drawled, leaning against his desk, an air of ease surrounding him. "That the man who bombed the Stark Conference a few days ago was one of ours?"

Peter glared at him, tried to loosen the restraints that were chaining him to the chair.

"It was unplanned," he said, and he started circling Peter, like a hawk. "Such needless death."

"But the people you’re trying to make Mister Stark kill? That’s not needless?"

"I don’t expect you to understand." The man was standing behind him, and Peter tensed as he ran a hand through his hair, and suddenly it was Toomes and Skip and every other asshole that had tried to hurt him. He flinched away. The man laughed and circled around again, leant down so that they were eye level. "However, I, myself, need to understand something."

"Tragic," Peter said.

"I want to understand why you didn’t run off by yourself." There was curiosity in his voice. "It was clear enough that Stark was holding you back."

"I guess it’s just one of those things you’ll never know." Peter smirked at the flash of anger is his eyes. At least, until electricity ran through his skin and he forced himself to not flinch from the fist colliding with his cheekbone.

He spat blood onto the floor. When he looked at the man, the soft amusement and curiosity had flushed from his face. Peter saw the cracks in the mask, saw the insanity that dangled dangerously behind his eyes.

"You will answer when I ask you a question."

Peter knew that, sometimes, he could be stupidly snarky. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Tony, because he said, "It wasn’t really a question, to be fair."

And then, before he had a chance to suck in a breath, the man had brandished a knife from his pocket and slammed the blade into Peter’s thigh.

He didn’t really remember much, after that. He could remember screaming, could remember more bruises and punches and spitting out retorts that made the cracks turn into canyons. What he could remember, and what he focused on the most, was the feeling of his muscles, straining and pulling around the knife that was still stuck in his leg as they tried to heal.

When they threw him back into the cell, Tony caught him and he was safe, it was okay, Tony was there, he was okay.

"Kid? Peter?" Tony lowered him to the floor and cursed under his breath. "Hey, look at me, okay?"

Peter grabbed for Tony's hands. He felt like he was floating away, his mind empty and numb.

"I’m gonna have to pull the knife out." It took a few seconds for the words to make sense.

"What — What do you —" His tongue twisted, all heavy and clumsy.

Tony brushed a hand softly through his hair, cupped his swelling cheek gently. "It’ll only hurt for a second. I promise."

Peter leaned into his hand, nodded after a moment. A scream crawled passed his teeth, a burst of bright, white light exploded behind his eyes.

When his vision cleared, he was curled against Tony’s chest and hands were carefully running through his hair. It didn't matter that the cold was slowly creeping back into his skin, because Tony was there, and he was safe. Peter’s eyes slid shut.

 

 

He had lost track of days. Tony had been gone for too long, he hadn’t eaten in longer. His brain was foggy and his stomach was cramping and his throat was dry. Peter was almost too exhausted to feel the panic that was shredding his insides apart.

It was dark. They hadn’t turned the lights on for as long as Tony had been gone, but it made him feel better. He liked the dark, and his fingers slowly traced the hilt of the knife, stuffed into his hoodie pocket. Peter didn’t kill people, _Spider-Man_ didn’t kill people, and he had to remind himself that, again and again.

He hadn’t heard Tony scream in a while, too, and something got stuck in his throat. At least when he could hear Tony, Peter knew that he was alive.

 

 

He couldn’t breathe, because if Tony was dead, that would make four. Peter couldn’t remember his parents, but sometimes when he walked into the apartment, he expected Ben to be sitting on the couch, TV switched on and a coffee in his hands.

Peter wrapped the hoodie around him tighter. It smelled like blood.

 

 

He could feel his body deteriorating, his metabolism eating apart his muscles. There was a numbness spreading throughout his body, as icy and cold as the concrete, as consuming as the darkness wrapping around him.

His leg was healed, but he didn’t know if he could break down the door anymore. He probably couldn’t even stand without passing out.

 

 

It could have been hours or days or months or years, but the door slid open and Tony was thrown in, unconscious. Something snapped in Peter’s brain when he saw Tony’s face, as he dragged him to the corner of the room. He was bruised and cut, skin swelling and bleeding, hair damp with freezing water, shoulder popped out of its socket.

Peter’s hands shook too much to find Tony’s pulse, so he put them on his chest. When he felt it slowly rise and fall, a sob ripped from his throat and he couldn’t see through his stinging eyes. He latched onto Tony, shoulders shaking.

"I’m sorry," he choked, but he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for. Maybe because he hadn’t found an exit, maybe because he should have been quicker, smarter. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."

Time blurred again, and when they slid the door open, he gripped the knife and stood over Tony. He was going to kill them, he didn’t care how many, didn’t care what he had to do, but he was getting Tony out.

He didn’t hear the voice telling him that it was okay, that he was safe and that they were getting them out. He didn’t realise that Rhodey was holding his hands out, metal of the War Machine suit reflecting in the light shining from the corridor. He just stood perfectly still, knife out, snarling.

They came too close, and he launched at them, but someone grabbed him, held him with a too strong grip as he thrashed and stabbed and tried _to get out_.

" _GET OFF HIM!_ " They were kneeling next to Tony, too close, _hurting him_ , and metal hands were still holding him, not letting him go, and his throat ripped apart. " _GET OFF!_ "

"Peter, you’re okay, you’re safe." The voice was from the person holding him, and he struggled and kicked, but they still weren’t letting him go. "Peter, it’s me. It’s Rhodey."

And, finally, the voice cut through his brain and he went limp, tears blurring his eyes, limbs too weak.

 

 

Tony was fine, they said. There was nothing that couldn’t be healed. Peter still curled up next to him in the hospital bed, anyway, and didn’t stop listening to his steady heartbeat.

Malnourishment, apparently, and severe dehydration, was keeping the IV hooked up to their arms. His brain was still foggy. They said he would have died if they found him a few days later.

That almost scared him as much as Tony still being unconscious was.

It was still dark, and the sun was rising, making the clouds purple and orange in the sky. It was still cold, too, in the sterile hospital room. He was safe, though. Tony was safe.

"Peter?" Tony’s voice was scratchy and delirious from pain killers and slightly scared.

He pushed himself up on one arm so Tony could see him. "Hey, Mister Stark."

"You okay?" Tony’s eyes were half-lidded, but they were scanning him, checking for injuries.

Peter dropped back down onto Tony’s chest, shut his eyes when arms wrapped around him tightly. "Yeah. We’re okay."

They were safe, and maybe, for now, that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> which dumb bitch left her holiday homework until the literal last day of the holidays ?
> 
> this dumb bitch  
> and do i like this story ? i think so ! i never like any of my writing so thats pretty cool lol
> 
> also, i'm thinking about doing the irondad bingo  
> i don't have tumblr so i'd have to make one but it looks pretty fun, so that might happen 
> 
> ok thank you all for reading , it means so much <33


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